Never Let Go
by princessmelia
Summary: Fitz isn't where he's supposed to be, but that doesn't mean Jemma won't find him anyway. Episode tag to 1x17 "Turn, Turn, Turn". Fitzsimmons friendship or romantic. An almost companion piece to "Time".


_**A/N-** Another story for laangol on tumblr. An almost companion piece to "Time"._

_Summary- Fitz wasn't where he was supposed to be, but that didn't mean Jemma wouldn't find him anyway._

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Simmons couldn't sleep. The bed beneath her was hard and unfamiliar, causing her to toss and turn, searching for comfort. Her own room had been torn to shreds from the gunfire, so she was sleeping in Ward's bunk instead. She tried to convince herself that that was the only reason she couldn't fall asleep.

It was a lie.

Regulation S.H.I.E.L.D. beds were all the same. The bunks were all the same size. The sheets had the same warmth, the same feeling. It was her mind that kept her occupied and awake. It was the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. was no more that kept her body from relaxing. It was her old professor's fearful face that kept her eyes from closing. It was the fact that Fitz had been in danger that kept her heart beating fast.

He was farther away from her than normal, being on the other side of the plane. His room was usually two doors away from hers, Skye sandwiched between them. Now there was a common room, a bar, a staircase, and a couch between them. It was too much.

Ignoring how absurd giving into her irrational feelings was, Simmons pried open her door quietly and looked around the room. No one was around. Tiptoeing across the floor, she made her way to Fitz's bunk and was surprised to find the door open a fraction

"Fitz?" she whispered quietly before sliding the door. His room was empty. Her heart began to race faster, and Jemma tried to quell down her rising panic. He probably just couldn't fall asleep, like her. But if that were true, why didn't he come to her bunk? He knew she would be there for him. Perhaps he didn't want to wake her up with his problems. It would be typical Fitz.

Remembering days at the Academy, Simmons decided to check the lab for her lost partner. There had been many a new design or invention created the night before a rigorous exam. Maybe he had gone to find solace in the lab.

Simmons crept down the stairs to find him, but paused before entering. The cargo bay was a mess. Burn marks scorched the walls and bits of shrapnel from the plane were scattered all over the floor. Shots from an ICEr were lodged into the laboratory doors, and she ran her hand over the spot forlornly. She knew from the team's stories that they had been aimed at Fitz, and she sighed as she remembered what a long day he had had.

Despite not seeing her partner behind the glass, Simmons entered the pass code to the lab, the soft swish echoing around the silent plane. Fitz wasn't at his computer or at the technology table. No extra parts or misplaced tools were lying around to indicate that he had been there, but Jemma could feel him there none the less. He was somewhere around her.

Opening the door to the back hallways, Simmons made her way inside. It was darker back there as the plane's lights were on "night" setting, but it didn't stop her from seeing him. He was on the floor, back against the wall one leg sprawled out in front of him while the other one was pulled up against his chest protectively.

"Fitz?" His head turned toward her, but she couldn't read his expression in the low light. "May I join you?" She waited until he nodded in consent (it took longer than it normally would) before sitting down beside him. "Is everything all right?" He nodded again.

She didn't believe him.

But pressing things with Fitz wouldn't get them anywhere, so she sat and thought. She'd almost lost him that day. First to Agent Hand, then to Hydra. Hand assured her that if Fitz stayed loyal, they would save him. It hadn't calmed her stomach. And when they were en route to the security room, Jemma couldn't help but think of Garrett's threat to her best friend. Pain. Promises of pain. Of shot out knee caps. Fitz had more of a chance of living than anyone on their team, but not without torture and torment.

When they had opened the doors to the room, Fitz was on the ground, curled up under a desk. Had they been too late? Were his knees blown? Could he not stand? The thoughts had beat on her relentlessly and stole her breath away. She couldn't move until he did.

And when he had stood, she had run. He was alive and whole and safe.

"Today I killed a man." His voice broke through her thoughts and cut the silence around them. She turned to see his face, but he was looking down, and the shadows covered his expression.

Jemma opened her mouth to utter reassurances, comforts, but no sounds would form. What could she say? May had offered up that information when they had met to discuss the events of the day, but Fitz had commented on it. She couldn't imagine what emotions were swirling inside of her partner's chest.

The usual ones, for sure. Regret and guilt. Pain and sorrow. Heart-break and misery. But then there were the emotions that would make him feel worse. The emotions like relief. Relief that they were all still alive. And the knowledge that he would do it again if he had to.

No, there wasn't anything Jemma could say to ease his pain. So she didn't say anything. Instead, she reached out and grabbed his hand.

He clung to it like a lifeline.

They stayed there all night, gaining strength from the other's company. Sleep came slowly, and it was only after they had held hands long enough to assure themselves that the other was real and wasn't going anywhere that either one of them could rest.

Jemma's head fell onto Fitz's shoulder as she slept. Fitz remained awake for a few minutes longer, but soon dozed off as well, head lolling to the side to rest onto Jemma's head while his hand still grasped hers tightly.

And they never let go all through the night.

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**-princessmelia**


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